


Cursed

by caffeinechesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, vaguely first season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 15:21:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15488838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeinechesters/pseuds/caffeinechesters
Summary: Sam is able to read minds thanks to a curse.





	Cursed

**Author's Note:**

> For the July Challenge where I was prompted with "cursed to read minds".

“I wish he wouldn’t have grown to sasquatch-size” enters Sam’s mind and he’s not sure if Dean said anything. 

He looks around the motel room. He looks at Dean who looking through the obits with a pen in hand. Sam looks at his laptop followed by noticing he’s taking up no more space than usual. He thinks nothing of it at that moment.

He definitely thinks more about hearing things when at the diner attached to the truck stop. It’s overwhelming not just with the ambient noise, but he’s pretty sure he is catching things that aren’t being said by the person. Sam tries to ignore it. Sam even gets through ordering his dinner despite the waitress getting pretty graphic on thoughts of a bathroom fuck with Dean while scribbling down everything. He really hopes that she can multitask so he doesn’t end up with a wrong order again. Deciding to take a piss before Dean inevitably thinks about fucking the waitress in the bathroom, he slides out the booth.

Whatever made Sam think that the bathroom would be less noisy in his head he quickly realizes how very wrong he was. Even more worrying is the thoughts some of the occupants are having. He swears that he heard someone that they’d fuck him against the sink to see if his ass is tight; with horror, he realizes that a burly, bulky trucker is eyeing him from the urinal as he is washing up. Maybe the witch did get one last curse in before Dean shot him.

Sam quickly exits the bathroom to see that their order out and the waitress is giving Dean her number. Dean is all smiles when she gives it to him but the voice in Sam’s head is hearing a different story. Mainly about where is he, what is taking him so long, and thinking about pranking him by pouring salt onto his salad. He speeds up the moment the waitress leaves the table to intercept Dean from ruining his lunch and he just made it going by the look on Dean’s face when he sees the salt in his brother’s hand. Dean tries to save face by using it on his fries even though Sam knows (and maybe mind reading isn’t so bad after all) that Dean already puts some on. He was going to tell his brother about the possibility of being cursed. Sam decides not to after hearing colorful commentary every time he takes a fry from his plate. Plus, curses like this only last a couple of days he thinks.

After being on the road with Dean for a couple hours, he really is reconsidering why he didn’t tell Dean back the diner. If he has to hear Dean’s mind about what needs to be done to the Impala, what needs to be restocked in the trunk, and both hearing in his mind and ears Dean singing along to Metallica Sam is going to scream. He balls up his jacket instead and tries to sleep. Dean’s mind goes silent for a moment. Then goes to into, as Dean puts it, “chick flick” narration about how much Sam has grown, how he’s so proud, lucky to have him as a brother, and almost as an afterthought, how pretty his little brother became. Stop. Sam has to rewind a bit and rethink that last little bit. Dean thinks he’s pretty? Sam internally scoffs at that. His gorgeous brother with the full lips, too green eyes, and swagger thinks he’s the pretty one? He has to bite his tongue to keep from responding to that. This is interesting. This is good stuff to hold over Dean when he inevitably finds out that Sam’s cursed to read minds. Sam can definitely handle Dean’s anger about not telling him about the curse. His brother may give off the air of being an open book, especially when it comes him, but Sam knows that Dean keeps things close to his chest. Things that he would never admit to Sam, especially when it relates to Sam that isn’t normal ribbing between brothers or how hard it was for them growing up. Sam has always felt like a cowbird when it comes to Dean and their dad; he has always been different from the two of them, placed in the nest of the sparrows that unwittingly parented him. A part of him wonders if it’s the psychic thing that makes him feel that way. Another part desperately hoped since he went through puberty that he was a cowbird just so that Dean wasn’t his blood brother. He balls up his jacket more to maintain the illusion of sleep and push away those thoughts. Dean’s internal monologues are fast-paced and random. Soon, he feels himself falling into the sleep with the last thought he hears from Dean is “Time to switch it to the soft rock station so Sammy can sleep.” He wants to correct Dean with “It’s Sam” but his body is already heavy with sleep.

He wakes up to Dean pulling up to a gas station on another nameless route with Dean in his head running through which credit card to use. Sam stretches his shoulders and Dean looks over, fondly he might add, and tells Dean he’s going to head in the store to get coffee and food. He feels stiff getting out the car and stretches his legs a bit.

“He’s your brother Dean, stop looking at him like that,” Sam gets inside his head as he stretches his arms over his head. 

“Huh, so this is what denial looks like,” Sam’s thinks as he heads into the store.

Later, at the motel just south of the truck stop, Sam has processed this revelation. His brother feels the same. Which, should be great, but Sam knows if he did the chick flick moment of grand declaration, he’s liable to a face full of holy water and possibly a fist to the face.

He could start with “Hey Dean remember the man witch we took out the last hunt? Well, he cursed me to read minds”, but he figures that Dean would probably freeze up, deny, and eventually repress everything even more. Dean at his best is cagey when it comes to anything hits too close to the truth that he refuses to believe. At his worst, Dean will repress everything and go out on a bender with booze, strip clubs, and fuck as many women as he can for at least a couple of days. He doesn’t want either. Sam can read minds right now. He can flirt with Dean and gauge his reactions. He is a genius.

So, after trying to flirt with Dean the evening, Sam has realized that maybe he might just have to bite the bullet and tell him. The reactions he’s gotten has been about being possessed by a teenage girl with a crush, disbelief, laughter, and the last attempt of flirting (giving Dean the last beer and letting his hands lingering when Dean took it) got the thought of “Is he trying to start a prank war?” Sam then is hit with the memory of Jess telling him that he was lucky that she knew he was flirting because he was terrible at it.

“Fuck… I might have to tell him,” his brain supplies as he hears Dean’s head tries to think of what the hell is wrong with him. He’ll sleep on it as the infomercial clicks on.

He wakes up to the sound of Dean moving around. He doesn’t hear Dean’s commentary though; it must have been a short-acting curse. Sam is pulled out his mind to see that Dean is chomping at the bit to get to Staunton before nightfall to interview the family of the man that found dead inside the Dejarnette Sanitarium, as Dean put in far fewer words. He pulls himself out of bed and quickly showers and packs up to leave. Dean is waiting by the car. Sam misses the near-constant chatter in his head. It’s about four hours of straight driving to get there. That will give Sam time to figure out how to broach the topic that “I was cursed to read minds and I found that we both feel the same way.”

There is something beautiful and calming about going through Appalachia Sam thinks; it might the way the interstate feels like a country road with its tree-divided highways and bucolic scenery that passes by. He still is debating on how to grapple the issue of telling Dean. He could tell Dean in the Impala. Dean couldn’t escape as quickly as if was when they stopped. Plus, the Impala is their home. It’ll offer a comforting presence to Dean (and himself if Sam wasn’t in denial about his feelings toward the Impala). Sam decides once they get lunch and back on the road he’ll tell Dean about the mind reading and how his unrequited love isn’t so unrequited. It sounds like a plan.

Dean knew something was up Sam decided. He had to be because lunch consisted of gas station food that he grabbed while Dean filled up. Dean was lucky that this gas station had a country store attached to it and that today they were serving homemade pork barbecue. With a heavy bag of barbecue sandwiches, fries, and a bottle of coke for Dean and water for himself. Sam hopes that when they’re back on the road, eating, and sharing fries that were tossed into the paper bag between them, that telling Dean both things will be easier. It’s hard to be angry or frightened when you’re stuffing your face with greasy homemade food.

“Before we head to the next case there’s something I need to tell you,” Sam starts, testing the waters. 

Dean takes his eyes off the road to gauge Sam. Sam pauses. Dean is watching him more than the road. Best to rip the band-aid off Sam figures.

“The man witch we took out last case cursed me to read minds,” Sam says slowly but speed up when Dean is about to interrupt him. “It was only for a couple of days! It’s already gone, Dean.”

“If we didn’t already gank him, Sammy,” Dean starts. Sam can handle Dean’s protective streak. Sam can possibly pivot this protective streak to advantage and ease Dean into the revelation of both of them feeling the same.

“Dean we already took care of him. And you’re lucky you didn’t hear what some of the truckers thought of me when I washing my hands in the bathroom,” he replies looking over at Dean who is thankfully watching the road but gripping the steering wheel hard. “C’mon Dean, you know I can take care of myself. Do you really think a trucker could take me down?”

Dean smiles before responding, “Nah, but I’d hate to see your pretty hair get ruined Samantha if he grabbed it.”

“So you admit you like my hair Dean,” Sam jokes, “but do you love me for more than hair?”

Dean snorts the coke at that and Sam can’t help but feel a little proud of himself for getting him to laugh, even if Dean did get coke up his nose. Now… It is make or break time Sam decides.

“Speaking of love, Dean, you know that I love you more than a brother and I know you feel the same,” he jumbles out, feeling the anxiety rising in himself and in the car.

Dean is pulling off to the side of the road. Shit, shit shit, is on repeat in his mind. Dean is going to leave him. Dean is leaving him. Sam feels panic rising in his stomach as his body feels like it’s freezing as the car comes to stop. He needs to stop Dean from doing something stupid.

“Dean, I’m sorry... I would’ve never brought it up if I didn’t feel the same. I know you would’ve never,” Sam stammers, hating how he doesn’t feel in control of the situation. He ruined all the progress since Dean came and picked up from Stanford and after the Max incident. 

Sam wouldn’t blame Dean at this point. Sam is steeling himself for the worst. He feels Dean's hand on his shoulder, calming him, a bit. Dean is looking worried but not like he wants to get out the car and run.

“Calm down, Sam,” Dean tells him in a softer voice than normal. It’s the same voice Dean uses for frightened citizens. Sam isn’t sure if he should be comforted that Dean is trying to be the calm one in this when he was the one that couldn’t leave it alone. Dean doesn’t look like he’s about to kick Sam out on the side of the road. Instead, he looks relieved. Sort of. Sam will take that.

“Sam… How long has it been for you,” Dean questions.

“Since I caught you with the cheerleader when I came home early from soccer practice when I was thirteen,” Sam responds, trying to maintain eye contact. “I kinda saw you in a different way after seeing the way you fucked her and her begging for more.”

Dean grins at Sam‘s admission. “For me, it was when you went to prom. You looked nothing like my geeky little brother. And when I came to Stanford, you filled out more and had confidence. I don’t know, it was like when did my little brother get so grown up,” Dean says before Sam can ask the same question.

Silence takes over. Both are unsure how to proceed with this. Dean breaks first.

“Sam, if we do this, I got to let you know that I can’t go back to just being brothers. I couldn’t do it,” Dean states.

“Neither could I,” is also Sam says before Dean pulls him closer, knocking the bag of fries into the footwell.

“Can I kiss you,” Dean asks face to face. Sam looks at Dean’s lips forming the words and pulls him into a gentle kiss. Dean ups the ante, like a good big brother, and nibbles on Sam’s lower lip. Sam now gets why all of Dean’s partners don’t want to let him go if this is just a kiss (and Sam can’t wait to find out why all his partners leave so happy the next morning). Just as it’s getting good Dean pulls away and Sam tries to follow his mouth.

“C’mon Sam, we need to get to Staunton before sunset to see if we can interview the family,” Dean reminds him. Sam sighs as he catches Dean’s smile. And he manages to see Dean blush slightly when he touches his lips.

“After the case, you think we can stay a couple of days longer? You know, to explore our relationship,” Sam asks.

“It’s like you read my mind, Sammy,” Dean laughs as they merge back onto the road.


End file.
